


More than I seem to be.

by Aliea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Bit Not Good, Angst, BAMF John, Drug Use, Guns, M/M, Sherlock Whump, Torture, one hell of a ride!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliea/pseuds/Aliea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically John kicks some ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea, something that was getting in the way of my other story.
> 
> Now dare I try writing two at once!
> 
> Anyways enjoy BAMF John because damn do I love him! !!

The scream was unlike anything he had heard before. It was deep, coming from a place deep within, it was terrifying in it intensity, long and unending, it was heartbreaking, ripping at him as he listened. But above all it drove him forward, forced him to continue on, it made him fight all the harder.

Gritting his teeth, John closed his eyes for a moment then with everything he had he pushed against the men holding him. Breaking free long enough to place a well aimed punch at one of his would be captures nose he smiled at the feel of bone breaking and the splash of warm blood on his fist.

"Hold him!" Someone shouted, but John had found his momentum and using his skill as well as the drive behind getting to the one screaming, he was not going to be held again.

Fighting hard he took down another two men before being able to grab hold of a gun one of them had dropped.

Spinning he placed three well aimed shots before pressing the barrel of the gun to the last standing man's head.

"Take me to him." He hissed, his hand covered in blood, his face splattered with it and his clothes ripped and torn from where he had been held down only moments before.

"Fuck you." The man growled only to be hit hard over the head with the butt of the gun.

Looking about the open space he listened. 

The screaming had stopped, but he could hear voices, as well as whimpering coming from the left of him.

Heading in that direction he stopped half way there as a gun shot rang out, then he was running.

Reaching a door he pushed it open and stumbled at the sight before him.

Sherlock was chained up by the wrists, his hand high above his head, with his feet only just touching the ground.

His shirt was open showing the extensive torture he had gone through in such a short time. His black trousers where covered in blood, only visible because of the shin the blood gave to the dark material. His head was hanging down, his normally perfect curls wild and stuck to his neck and face.

This he all took in within a matter of a second.

Shifting his attention he took in the man stood before Sherlock and with no doubt or hesitatency he raised his hand and shot the man through the head.

Before the man even fell John was moving. Reaching Sherlock he gently placed his hands on either side of Sherlock’s face and tilted it so John could see him.

His face was totally untouched, yet blood ran down his head from a cut on his hairline.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock jumped, his eyes opening and upon seeing John his breathing increased.

"No, you need to leave." He panted.

"Not until I get you out of here." Looking about he searched for something to help him get his friend down. Spotting a create he turned back to Sherlock. "Stay awake."

"John..." John let go of his face and ran to the create, grabbing it he pulled it across the floor till it was before Sherlock.

"If you mention this to anyone, or pick on how short I am I will not be held responsible for my actions." He tried to joke as he stood on the create to look at the chains holding Sherlock prisoner.

"John...please." Sherlock whispered look up at John.

"It's okay, I'll get you out soon." John said then cursed his eyes narrowing. "Key...where is the key?" He looked down at his friend hoping he would have the answer but Sherlock wasn't looking at him. Following his line of sight John stiffened at the sight before him.

Four men stood with guns pointing at the two of them and just behind them was another, this one well dressed, his blond hair artfully styled. Grey eyes watched the two of them for a moment then he sighed as he looked at the dead man on the floor.

"Did you have to kill my most skilled torturer?"

"Yeah, I did." John replied easily.

"But now you will die so much quicker. With him you could have lived a very long life, a very long painfully wonderfully life."

"Well then, I think in that case I will just count my blessings." John's hand moved gently over Sherlock’s arm and he could feel him trembling slightly.

"So, you are the famous John Watson. Sherlock here has said nothing other than your name in the last few days. He screams it, prays with it, begs with it. Always your name. You must mean a great deal to him."

The man waved a hand and two of the men started forward, their guns still aimed at John.

"Tell me John, will you use his name just as he used yours?" 

As the men drew closer John jumped back off the create so that it was between him and the on coming threat.

The gun he had dropped after killing the torturer and for that he could have kicked himself.

Sherlock had in the last few second fallen unconscious once again, his position straining his chest, making it hard to breath. He had also lost a hell of a lot of blood.

Licking his lips John took a few steps back weighing up his options. He needed to get Sherlock out, fast, but he wouldn't be able to do that if he was dead or captured. 

Part of his brain registered the retreat option but then everything right to his very core rejected that idea, hell would freeze over before he left Sherlock in the hands of the men before him, or to anyone for that matter.

Keeping his eye on the two men coming towards he kept on moving back and back. He had an idea, a stupid one, but in the far corner to his left there was old machines gathered together, he just needed to get to them before they worked out what he had planned.

"Listen guys, lets just talk about this logically. Sherlock couldn't have pissed you all off this much, not enough to kill us."

"He lost me close to fifty million John, I think my reasons are justified." The blond replied, so that was MaCormick. John wasn't so sure, the last picture Sherlock had showed him of their target was grainy and the details hard to extract. Apparently MaCormick had dealings in human trafficking, his main business dealing with young girls.

That was how this case came to Sherlock’s attention. A mother begging him to help find her daughter, a good girl only in her first year of Uni. For some reason Sherlock had jumped at the case. A week later they had found the daughter as well as dismantling the massive organisation she had found herself held by.

John had thought it over, but three days ago Sherlock had gone missing. Not an uncommon thing to happen, but Sherlock’s phone was instantly down and when he had asked Mycroft to send him the location of Sherlock’s phone he was led to a dockside and the phone was smashed up. There was also blood.

A call to Lastrade and a trip to bart's confirmed the blood to be Sherlock’s.

It took him three days to find him and now he was pretty sure there was a very high chance the two of them would die in this hell hole.

"Take another step and I will shoot." One of the oncoming men said, he had pale green eyes and a nasty scare down the side of his face.

John stopped and slowly stretched to his full hight before suddenly diving and heading to the equipment that would be his shield.

Gun shots rang out all around him but he made it with only a graze on his arm.

As he found cover he fell against one of the machines and looked down at his arm, hissing as he placed his hand over it.

"Stop being a baby Watson, you've had worse!" He reprimanded himself before lifting his head and listening.

He needed to get at least one of them down, hopefully getting his gun at the same time.

"Dont play for too long boys!" MaCormick's voice rang out. "Oh and John...listen!"

Sherlock suddenly screamed again and John reacted.

Pushing away from his hiding place he simply walked to his left, searching.

The idiot that had spoken suddenly appeared and John wasted no time in closing the distance between them and breaking first the man's wrist, causing him to drop the gun, then breaking his arm then his nose. As the man fell screaming in pain, John crouched down to pick up the gun, a move that saved his life as a bullet went flying over his head.

Turning to the sound of the gun he shot blindly for a second before spotting his would be killer and placed a well aimed bullet right in his neck.

Standing he turned to scar face and knocked him out, silencing his screams. Making his way to the other he looked down at the gurgling man then put a bullet in his head killing him out right.

Picking the other gun up he checked the man for more ammo and loaded his pockets after reloading both guns.

"JOHN!!" Sherlock screamed again, this time ending on a sob.

Standing John placed one of the guns down the back of his trousers and slowly made his way through the small maze of machines till he came out facing MaCormick and the last two of his goons.

"Oh you are good!" MaCormick crooned as one of the men took Sherlock down and just let him drop to the floor, a mess of blood and pain.

Trying his hardest not to look at Sherlock he slowly stared to make his way back towards the last of those in his way.

"You will let us go now." John stated.

"Oh but this is so much fun!"

"Fun? I've kill five, possibly six of your men and you think this fun!"

"Oh yes, the most fun I've had in years. And you, you could fetch me a rather pretty penny if you just give yourself up."

"Never going to happen."

"Thought that would be your answer." MaCormick indicated to Sherlock. "Kill him."

John's eyes widened as one of the men stepped forward and aimed his gun at Sherlock.

"No! No dont!" John took a few steps forward raising his own gun. "One more move and I will blow your bosses brains out. Both of the men raised their gun's to John,  a situation he liked a lot more because a gun wasn't aimed at Sherlock.

"Oh your loyalty is admirable." MaCormick said placing a hand over his heart. "Always the loyal little solider." 

John frowned.

"How do you know so much about me?"

"Oh now there is a question." He smiled, a smile John recognise. "Moriarty sends his love, he told me all about you, and him." He nodded to Sherlock. "He told me that you where Sherlock’s weakness, but what he failed to mention was that Sherlock is your strength, he is your motivation, your reason for everything."

John tighten his grip on the gun, his aim not once wavering even as pain radiated down his arm.

"Tell me John, if I did kill him, slowly pushed a blade into his heart, would you feel it? Every single inch of it, slowly killing what means the most to you."

John fired.

The bullet sent MaCormick flying and he was able to take down one of the others before he was hit on his side causing him to fall to a knee where he fired one last time and the last man fell.

Dropping his gun he placed a hand to his side the other bracing on the floor as he gasped in air.

Taking a quick assessment of himself he winced as he worked out what would have been hit and also registering that the bullet was still in him.

Breathing a few shallow breaths, finding it hard to take in any more he pushed himself up off the floor groaning in pain as he did so.

Slowly he made his way to Sherlock and as gently as possible knelt next to him. Keeping a hand pressed to his side he searched Sherlock for a pulse and upon finding one relaxed ever so slightly.

"Okay...need...ahh...damn it. Phone, need a phone." Turning he looked at the dead MaCormick a few feet away. Getting up again he went to the dead criminal and searched his pockets, finding a phone in his inside jacket pocket. Pulling it free he made his way back over to his friend and sat next to him.

Opening the phone he growl at the locked screen and looked at Sherlock.

"Always unconscious when I need a password." Sighing he instead dialed the only number he could and placed the phone to his ear.

"Nine nine nine, what emergency services do you require?"

"Police and ambulance. Patch me through to the police though." John answered his eyes not leaving Sherlock.

"Police, what is your emergency?"

John quickly relayed the address and all the information the police needed then he demand to be put through to Lastrade.

It took ten minutes for the first responder (a paramedic) to arrive, another ten for the police with Lastrade leading way.

"What the hell John? Its a fucking killing field out there!" Greg said as he made his way to the two on the ground his eyes taking in the other four dead men before really looking at John and Sherlock. "Holy crap!"

"Mycroft will make this all go away. Just get Sherlock out of here."

"John there are at least seven dead bodies-"

"Possibly nine...there are another two over there." He nodded to the machines.

"Fuck!" Greg ran his hand through his hair. "How the hell?"

John smiled slightly. "Army doctor."

"Army doctor my ass. This is like some sort of special..." he paused and really looked at John. "Shit, how the fuck did I miss that?"

"If it helps he missed it too." John nodded to Sherlock who was being placed on a stretcher.

"Sir, are you injured too?" A paramedic asked as he came to kneel next to John who had been doing a rather good job and hiding everything in favour of Sherlock getting all the attention.

"Yeah. Bullet graze to the left upper arm, and bullet wound to the right lower side, no exit wound." As he moved his coat he heard Greg gasp and then the world tilted dangerously. "Damn..."

Before he fell to the floor darkness pulled him under.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go how they are meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started writing the next chapter, wrote about 1500 words, decided I hated it. So deleted all that started again and this happened. This was not how I expected this to go, just so you all know that. I have no idea what is going to happen I am, for now, just letting the characters take me where they want to take me.
> 
> enjoy :)

John didn’t stay out for long. By the time they had stabilised him and gotten him onto an ambulance he started to come back round.

Lestrade had been kept back in the warehouse so when the doors to the ambulance closed he found himself alone with one of the paramedics.

"Sher...lock?" He got out, opening his eyes slightly.

"Half way to the hospital. He's stable, just concentrate on you now." The younger man said as he hooked John up to monitor's and started to clean up some of the smaller cuts on his face and arms.

Sometime while he had been out his shirt had been cut from him leaving him topless. The area he had been shot was heavily gauzed but already blood could be seen bleeding through.

Leaning his head back on the stretcher he let his eyes close and just concentrated on his breathing.

"Why have you stopped?" The paramedic with John suddenly asked forcing John to open his eyes.

"Some idiot in the way." The driver called back.

The sirens where blaring and John could see the blue lights flashing, so whoever was in the way really was an idiot.

"What the...now the idiot is getting out of...oh shit!" Gun fire sounded and the paramedic threw himself over John as glass shattered and bullets flew, within seconds the paramedic on top of him became a dead weight and John felt panic start to set in.

He was trapped, bleeding out and who ever fired at the ambulance was now coming through the back of the vehicle.

"Well well well, Johnny, how you doing?" A voice he knew called out just as the weight on him lifted and two men appeared, one he had never seen before, the other he knew all too well.

"God damn it...why are you not dead?" John asked as Moran pulled free two set of hand cuffs and proceed to cuff John to the stretcher, as the other man packed med supplies. "Last time I saw you, you where bleeding out in the desert."

"Yeah, some doctor you turned out to be, thought you guys had to take an oath to help all those in need?" The last cuff was affixed and the stretcher was pulled free of the ambulance, the bag full of equipment placed on his legs.

"We do, but I'm pretty sure I can be forgiven, you had after all, just killed half my men."

"True." Moran smiled, though it really wasn't a nice smile, it was sly and downright evil.

"So... where are we going?" John asked trying not to wince as he was pulled into another vehicle, a black van.

"My boss is a bit pissed off, he wants to make sure you and Sherlock get what's coming to you."

John lifted his head to look at Moran as the blond stood holding the doors open.

"You have Sherlock?" He asked panic clear in his voice.

"Maybe." Moran said with a smile before closing the doors.

The journey was short, but it was rough on John's injuries. Ever bump and pot hole they went over he could clear feel as it jolted his side and arm. So by the time they got to their destination, not only had his pain level gone up so had his anger.

The doors when opened revealed the man he didn't know and when he stepped in John kicked out landing a hit but not able to give it much strength. The man raised his eye brown then looking behind him a second before stepping even closer.

"That wasn’t very clever." He whispered and placed a hand over John’s mouth as he pushed hard against the bullet hole in his side.

John arched into the pain his scream held back by the hand over his mouth.

"Christen!!" Moran shouted and Christen let go allowing John to gasp in pain as he tried to curl up into himself, to protect his side.

"Don’t play with him just yet, idiot!" Moron abolished flicking Christen on the head. "We need him awake enough to get that bullet out before we can have some fun."

John shot Moran a look from his half curled up position.

"Don’t worry doc, we have some painkillers for ya."

John glared even as he felt the edges of unconsciousness closing in on him.

"Oh now look what you have gone and done!" John saw Moran push Christen from the van just as he was pulled under.

 .~.~.~.~.

"They both have two weeks! Make sure they are healed and fed, give them everything they need, then I shall deal with them."

John kept his eyes close as the voice spoke around him, or rather he found he was unable to even try to open them he was that tired, but his mind was on high alert and it refused to stay down for too long, only giving him an hour or so of rest before it forced him to wake up yet again.

"MaCormick's man did a right job on Sherlock." That was Moran.

"Keep him sedated and once the doctor is awake and taken care of himself have him deal with Holmes." That was someone he didn't recognise.

"When do you think the boss will get involved?" Moran again.

"He's let me lead for now, you just make sure they stay put."

"Sir yes sir!" John could see the mock salute Moran would have just given in his mind’s eye, his tone of voice leading those around him to think he was joking, but John could hear the undertone, the tone that said 'don’t fucking underestimate me.'

John knew Moran, knew what the man was capable of. He may act like the big brute but he was smart, his tactical knowledge was outstanding and he pretty much knew what the other side was thinking before they even did.

So when a hand landed on John's upper arm he wasn’t at all surprised when Moran spoke.

"You with us Johnny boy?"

"Resting." He was able to force out, the effort of just saying that one word a massive drain on his reserved energy.

"Right. You have a few hours’ kip, then you really need to dig that bullet out before it’s too late." He patted John’s arm and then he felt as someone else started to undo the bandage on his other arm. Wincing as the dried gauze was pulled from the bullet graze he waited.

He hadn’t seen the extent of the damage to his arm so he was unsure if he needed stitches or not. He got his answer a whoever was tending to him started to stitch. Tensing he tried to slip back into the welcome nothingness that was unconsciousness but he was denied it.

Keeping quite through the procedure he tried a few times to open his eyes but after achieving nothing more than a few millimetres of light he gave up and instead ran inventory on his body.

Grazed bullet wound to the left arm, shot in the right side, the bullet now lodged inside him, he needed to get it out and fast, he also needed to make sure no fabric from his clothing had also entered the wound, something that would led to internal infection if he was not careful.

He was covered in bruising, a possible broken knuckle, but as he flexed his hand he just deemed it as badly bruised. His face was sore but without touching it he was unsure what the damage was. Legs and arms fine if a little sore from strain and the beatings.

What he was dealing with now, more than anything was blood loss, he need a transfusion.

"Transfusion?" He got out after several tries.

"Soon, it's not easy to rob a blood bank." The voice he didn't recognise answered.

"Sherlock..."

"Umm....he is stable. He will need you, so you better sort yourself out."

"Give me...blood, and I will." He so wanted to add that he would also sort the mysterious guy out as well but he kept quiet.

"Sure...I'm going to give you something now so you will sleep and then when you wake you will be getting that bullet out."

"You..?" John asked with hesitancy.

"Ha...I'm better at putting bullets in people than pulling them out."

"Great..." John breathed as he felt a needle push into his arm and then the darkness he had been wishing for started to creep in on him.

"You have two weeks’ respite doctor Watson, then the fun can begin."

John would have rolled his eyes at that but instead he just let himself fall back under.

 .~.~.~.~.

Two days later John was changing his bandages.

He had been give the much needed blood transfusion and the self-operation he had to perform was in the end a lot simpler than he thought it to be. The distance the bullet had to travel to get to John had been such that the bullet had slowed and it had only gone a few inches before it nicked a rib and came to a stop.

Using mirrors and with a hell of a lot of pain meds he was able to extract the bullet as well as a few scraps of fabric, he just hoped he got all of it.

In the last twenty-four hours he had been given more blood as well as fluids. He had also eaten and though he was still in a hell of a lot of pain he needed to see Sherlock.

They had kept them apart, telling John only that Sherlock was stable and his wounds had been cleaned and bandaged. They refused to tell him anything more, telling him only to sort himself out first.

Today however they were moving him, already they had taken the stretcher and they had brought him clean clothing. Soft grey sweat pants and a white shirt. They also, kindly (their words not his) provided him with underwear and thick socks that, he hated to admit, felt good.

Once he was happy with his bandages he stood against the wall furthest from the door of his makeshift cell and waited.

When Moran entered the taller man raised an eyebrow at him.

"For a man shot two days ago, you look pretty damn good."

"Not sure how I feel having compliments bestowed upon me by a hired madman."

Moran nodded then smiled. "I would feel damn good about it."

"Course you would." John said bitterly. "Am I going to see Sherlock now?"

"So eager John! Anyone would think you love the man."

John laughed. "If you have only just worked that out you're more stupid than I thought!"

Moran's face dropped then he barked out a laugh.

"I knew it! I knew you had a thing for cock." Moran stepped forward and grabbed his own crotch in a rather lude manner. "Maybe when we get the fun started you can show me how good you are with that mouth of yours."

John raised an eyebrow and pushed away from the wall. "I have teeth."

"Yeah." Moran's smile changed and John held back a shiver. "Just remember I have Sherlock."

The two held each other’s eyes for a few more seconds, John turned away first. "Just take me to him."

"But if course." Moran bowed as he stepped out of the way indicating for John to go first.

They didn’t go far, just a few doors down a long hall was another room just like John's but inside was a proper hospital bed and monitors. Upon the bed was Sherlock, his pale skin still grey, eyes closed and most of his upper body covered in bandages.

Inside the room was a man and a woman. The woman was dressed in a nurse’s uniform, but it was dirty and as she looked up John saw fear in her eyes.

The man was stood against a wall arms crossed, his eyes when they fell on John were void of emotion and darker than the black pits of hell.

"You are to fix him up, make him as able as possible, in the time you have." The black eyed man said not moving from the wall.

"Why." John asked not making any move towards Sherlock.

"Order's, you are solider, you know how this works. Do as you are told, ask no questions."

"What if I refuse."

He held back the smile he felt as the man frowned and moved from his position.

"You would refuse to help your friend?"

"Yes." He answered without pausing.

"Why?"

"Why fix him if all you wish to do is to cause more damage later? I would rather let him die."

"Very well...Sebastian." Moran moved from behind John and headed towards Sherlock, or at least that was what he thought he was headed. But as he reached the bed he grabbed the nurse, who screamed in shock as she was pushed against a wall.

"If you don’t follow orders this lovely pretty nurse will slowly lose her looks." With that Moran pulled free his pen knife, flicked it open and lifted the blade to the nurse’s cheek and ran it down her skin.

The nurse for her part stayed quiet but she looked at Moran with terrified eyes as he slowly cut her face.

"Okay...okay stop you made your point!" John walked to the other side of the bed and looked over at Moran. "Let her go!"

Moran turned to John and smiled before stepping back and letting the nurse go. As he moved further away, the girl slowly sank to the floor her hand going to her face, but she didn't cry.

"So, fix him up. You have twelve days." The dark eyed man said as he left, Moran following after, closing the door as he went.

Lowering his head John gripped the bed rails and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Thank you." A voice whispered causing him to look up. The nurse stood on the other side of the bed, blood ran down her cheek and neck, staining her uniform.

"I'm sorry you have been dragged into this." John said as he moved around the bed and stood before the petite blonde. "Let me sort that." Quickly he pulled on some gloves and found what he needed to help heal the cut. Getting the girl to sit on a chair placed near the bed he went to work.

"What is your name?" He asked as he cleaned the wound.

"Maddie." She answered in a slightly shaky voice.

"Well Maddie, I'm going to do everything I can to get us out of here. But I will need your help.

Maddie looked up at him with green fearful eyes but she nodded.

"Good girl." They didn't talk after that and when John had finished he pulled on fresh gloves and turned his attention to Sherlock.

Gently he ran his hand through tangled curls and lent down to talk to his friend.

"I know you can hear me, that big brain of yours never truly sleeps. But for now I need you to stay asleep, I will wake you once I'm happy with how well you are doing. But for now just...sleep." Leaning down he gently placed a kiss to Sherlock’s temple and then got to work assessing Sherlock’s injuries as well as trying coming up with a way to get the three of them out of the mess they found themselves in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter for you lovely people :D
> 
> Just a thank you for every kudo, bookmark, subscribe and comment they all mean so, so much to me they really do keep me inspired :D
> 
> Also, I write a lot of this on my phone so please forgive any mistakes, I do go over it again when I do get onto a computer, but I am not afraid to admit that I'm not the best writer in the world and my spelling and grammar can be rather rubbish at times. But still enjoy the story and let me know what you think :) x x

Slowly, with the help of Maddie, John re-wrapped Sherlock’s chest and abdomen. He had Sherlock lent against him with the curly head resting on his shoulder, while Maddie did most of the wrapping.

"They really did a number on him." Maddie commented as she finished one bandage and started another.

"Yeah..crowbar to the ribs, four, five and six left side broken." John shook his head. "Its a wonder they never punctured a lung."

"I..the cuts."

"Don't." John ordered his voice rough with emotion. 

Sherlock’s smooth alabaster skin was now a map of freshly made scars, some so deep John had to do a double layer of stitches.

The cut on Sherlock's temple was deep, but he had been able to close it with small stitches with the hope to have minimal scaring.

It was however the gun shot wound on Sherlock's left thigh that had him most concerned. It was a wound he had not known about until he had done a full assessment of Sherlock’s injuries, but it explained the gun shot he had heard just before finding Sherlock strung up.

As Maddie finished he went to lean Sherlock back when the other man tensed and Sherlock’s hands fisted into the sides of John's shirt.

"Shit." John said turning his head as Sherlock opened his eyes. 

From where Sherlock was led on his shoulder John found himself brushing Sherlock forehead with his lips before pulling back slightly to look at his eyes.

"I told you to stay asleep." John whispered.

"You woke me." Sherlock sounded horse, his throat damaged from all the screaming. "Water?"

Maddie appeared with a glass of water and a special sponge lolly pop that soaked up some water. Giving it to John, she stood back as John placed it in Sherlock’s mouth.

"You cant have too much but this should help." John watched as Sherlock sucked the sponge dry his eyes closing as if it was the best feeling ever.

Taking the lolly from Sherlock’s mouth he smiled as Sherlock opened his eyes and almost pouted. 

"You can have one more." John passed the pop back to Maddie who dipped it in the water and handed it back to John. "Here." John held the pop up and Sherlock opened his mouth, again closing his eyes as John placed it in his mouth and he sucked it dry.

Once done John removed the pop and just looked at his friend.

"How long?" Sherlock asked.

"You have been out of it for nearly three days."

He shook his head slightly. "No..."

John frowned then sighed. "Oh...how long did MaCormick have you?"

"Yes."

"Over seventy three hours."

"That all?" Sherlock frowns then winces  as the movement caused him to pull the stitches on his head.

"Yeah, but it was seventy three hours far too long."

Sherlock’s hand suddenly moved on John's right side causing John to shift away and gasp in pain.

"What..." Sherlock pulled back gasping at the movement but he took in John. "You're hurt."

"It's fine. I'm fine." John tried to reassure, but then Sherlock took in Maddie, the bandage on her face, the state of her clothing, he also looked about the room.

"John...where are we?" Sherlock now looked slightly panicked, a look John was not used to seeing on that perfect face.

"It's okay, we are fine. But I need you to lay down so I can finish sorting the rest of you out."

Sherlock held his eyes as he slowly led back onto the bed, the pain of such controlled movement evident in his eyes.

"It's not over." He said as John pulled back the covers on Sherlock's legs.

"No...it's not." John looked to Maddie then to Sherlock’s drip. Maddie didn't need any more instruction, she quietly moved out of Sherlock’s line of sight and prepared a sedative. 

"John what is happening? Is this still MaCormick?" Sherlock reached out grabbing Johns wrist pulling him closer. "John, my mind...it's...slow, please just tell me." 

Gently pulling his wrist free John placed both his hands on Sherlock's face and lent down till their foreheads touched.

"Trust me?" John whispered as Sherlock lifted his hands to place on Johns arms.

"Yes." He answered.

"Good. Then forgive me for this." Maddie pushed the sedative into Sherlock’s IV line as John gently placed a kiss on to Sherlock’s lips.

Closing his eyes Sherlock sighed and then totally relaxed as the sedative hit his system.

"That was mean John." He whispered his hands trailing down John's arms.

"Yeah, but you probably wont remember this so I can be forgiven."

Sherlock smiled opening his eyes. "I forgive you anyway."

John laughed. "Tell me that if you do remember this."

Sherlock reached up placing a hand on Johns face his own face becoming serious.

"This is bad isn't it?"

"Yeah...but then it always is, we just somehow find a way out of it." 

"Why...why does this feel different?" John gently smooth back a few curls and turns to place a kiss on Sherlock's palm.

"I will get us out of this, I promise."

"I know." Sherlock said as his eyes close and he fell back under.

Letting the mask he had put on drop, John put a hand to his side and took a few unsteady steps back.

"John?" Maddie caught him as his legs gave out and the colour drained from his face. "John!"

Maddie lowered him to the ground then pulled up his shirt.

"You pulled your stitches." She observed.

"Yeah." He breathed out trying to control his pain.

"Okay up." Maddie pulled John to his feet and led him to the stretcher that had become his bed. Laying him down Maddie quickly went to work removing the bandages and assessing the situation.

"Two have ripped." She said moving to the cabinet full of medical equipment. "I guess today will be a good day to learn how to stitch, I've been watching you all day." 

John smiled slightly as she came back and placed everything she needed onto his legs, using paper roll as a makeshift table.

"Okay, so first thing?" She asked looking down at John.

John led her through what she needed to do step by step. Thirty minutes later John had a freshly stitched wound, it was a little messy but it was better than the self stitches he had given himself.

"Not bad." He said as she covered it up and the pulled John's shirt down.

"It will leave an ugly scar." She said sadly.

"That is no concern Maddie, some of the field stitches I've applied have been a lot worse than that, they become badges of honour in the end." John let him self relax for a bit before slowly sitting up.

"Maybe you should rest for a bit? " Maddie tried as John stepped back onto the floor.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked instead watching her closely.

"Umm a while."

"You sleep. I wont rest till I'm happy with Sherlock."

"Okay." He watched as Maddie climbed onto the stretcher and curled up on her side her hand pressed against her uninjured cheek.

Turning to Sherlock he started to cut away the blood stained bandages around his left thigh.

"John?" 

"Yes Maddie?"

"When...if...no when, when we get out of here, then what?"

"What do you mean?" 

"Won't they come after us?" She whispered, as though afraid just thinking about those that held them would call them to the room.

Looking up, John smiled at Maddie the looked higher up to the ceiling where a camera was concealed, but he had spotted them all only minutes after he had first entered the room.

"I don't plan on leaving anyone behind that could come find us." He said clearly, the smile never leaving his lips.

.~.~.~.

John woke to fingers in his hair, the moved slowly, pulling gently on the strands letting them fall back into place before the fingers delved back in and started the process all over again.

Turning his head on his arms but allowing the hand to continue stroking through his hair he looked at Sherlock with sleep blurry eyes.

"How you feeling?" John asked softly as he led his head back down and closed his eyes again.

"Moriarty."

John huffed out a laugh. "Never heard of that being a feeling before."

The hand in his hair stopped causing John to reopen his eyes. Sherlock was looking up at the ceiling, towards one of the hidden cameras.

"Moriarty has us." 

John sighed and slowly moved himself to sit up straight. It was stupid of him to sleep like this, his side protested with a vengeance as it started to pull and stretch.

"How are still standing?" Sherlock asked as John straightened himself fully with a sigh and a frown.

"I'm fine." 

Sherlock glared at him. "You have to operate on yourself, remove a bullet and stitch yourself up while high on painkillers."

"It could have been worse." John shrugged. "So how did you work that out?"

"Maddie told me." He confessed as though it was the worse thing in the world.

At the mention of Maddie, John turned to find her stock taking a frown on her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked meaning to walk to her but Sherlock grabbed his wrist and held him in place. Frowning down at his friend Sherlock simply shrugged and tugged till John sat back down.

"We have enough bandages, gloves and particularly everything else to last around a month."

"But?"

"Penicillin and all other painkillers will run out in less than a week if you both continue to take them the way you have been." Maddie sighed and stood slowly from the small medical fridge placed on the floor.

"Then we ration." John said, though he had no intention to allow Sherlock to feel more pain than he had to, he, John, would just cut back so that Sherlock could have what he needed.

"John." Sherlock tugged on his arm again. "Don't be stupid." 

"What? You mean like you? Running off into danger without even informing me!"

"That...that is not what happened." Sherlock’s voice was soft almost a whisper, as though he didn't want to admit to how he had been caught by MaCormick in the first place.

"So what did happen? I was going to meet you and you never showed, not even a text!"

"I...that is...they caught me."

John frowned then nodded. "Fine, just as long as you didn't go looking without me."

"Not this time." Sherlock confessed softly, something John knew was hard for him to admit. Something had happened and Sherlock had no way of predicting it of stopping it and that was something Sherlock will never easily admit to.

"It's okay." John placed a hand over Sherlock’s and squeezed it gently.

"I...sorry, I should have seen it, should have known."

"Sherlock you can not predict everything! Its just not possible!"

"What happened to MaCormick?"

John paused and then shrugged. "He's dead."

"How?" Sherlock looked up. "Ah...you killed him."

John shrugged again but said nothing as he let Sherlock just look at him, to read him.

"I missed something." Sherlock finally said his eyes widening 

"Not now." John's eye moved to the camera and back to Sherlock’s eyes hoping to get his meaning across. "We will talk later when we get out of here."

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John squeezed his hand again.

"I need you to trust me. Can you do that Sherlock? Just trust me?"

"I will always trust you John."

"Good, so do that through all of this and I will get us out of this." 

"Okay."

John smiled and lifted Sherlock’s hand placing a kiss on the knuckles.

"We kiss now?" Sherlock asked watching John closely.

"Yeah, I guess we do."

"Ah...good, that is good."

"Yes it is." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!
> 
> So sorry for the long wait on this guys, I've had a hard time finding the right path for this story. I'm still not totally happy with it but we shall see where it goes from here.
> 
> also Sherlock is a little OC in this story, but I think, given what he has gone through he deserves to be just a little OC.
> 
> so enjoy and please, as always, let me know what you think?

 

The days moved slowly.

John wished he had been able to sleep like Sherlock, but he knew Sherlock hated sleeping so much, it cut into his thinking time. But John needed him stronger, needed him to heal as much as possible and if that meant upping his pain med without him knowing then so be it.

It had been three days since John had been put in with Sherlock. In that time Sebastian Moran had introduced himself to Sherlock, something John hated, he wanted Sherlock as far away from all of them as possible. But Moran was the one to take Sherlock to the bathroom as the man refused to have a catheter, but it meant Sherlock was taken from John and he really didn't like that.

This was one of the times that Sherlock was gone, leaving John to stand in front of the door and wait.

"Why is it taking so long?" John murmured his eyes never leaving the door.

"It's been less than five minutes, it takes him that long to walk to the door." Maddie had taken the opportunity to change the sheets on Sherlock's bed and she was just finishing when the door opened revealing a very pale very sweat covered Sherlock being held up by Moran.

"Your boyfriend still a little week." Moran said with a smile as John closed the distance and draped Sherlock’s arm around his own shoulder and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist allowing the taller man to lean on him.

"What happened?" John demanded turning towards the bed and slowly walking towards the bed.

"He didn't want help." Moran said and though John wasn't looking he could practical feel the other man shrug.

"Did he hurt you?" John asked Sherlock quietly as he led him back onto the bed.

"No, he's telling the truth." Sherlock admitted as he fell back onto the bed breathing hard, his hands gripping the sheets hard.

"Maddie give him three mg morphine." Maddie nodded her face showing her fear at having Moran with them but glad to have a job to do.

"You next Watson." Moran said tilting his head to the door as John looked at him.

"Keep an eye on him." John said squeezing Sherlock’s hand before letting Moran herd him out of the room locking it behind them.

"So when do we get to see Jim?" John asked as they walked down the hall.

"He's around." Moran said as he stopped and pushed open another door leading into a bathroom.

John paused on the threshold a million thoughts going through his head, a million senior’s going through his mind when something pushed against his side causing him to move away with a hiss.

"Don’t Watson." Moran warned as John faced him. "Not worth it."

John looked down at the rifle in Moran's hand, a finger on the trigger, safety a flick away from being off. John was fast but he knew how good Moran was and with John's injury it would be a massive mistake to make.

"What is his plan with Sherlock?" John asked stepping into the bathroom.

"Why would I tell you Watson?"

John concentrated on his breathing as he finished and washed his hands, making sure to do an almost surgical scrub because it was the only time he got the chance to really clean his hands.

"Done yet doc?" Moran sighed looking at John through the mirror.

"Yeah." John let Moran led him back to the room.

Once they were back in Moran looked at Maddie.

"Your turn sweet cheeks."

"I don’t need to go." Maddie said moving so that John was between her and Moran.

"Suit yourself."

"Wait." John said turning to Maddie. "You need to go, it’s been days."

Maddie looked wide eyed at John but he turned back to Moran.

"You won't hurt her?" He asked, but his tone also made it a command.

"She is under the same condition as you and Sherlock. No harm is to come to her." Moran's tone was bored, but John believed him.

"Maddie trust me." John said turning back to the nurse. "Just go, do what you need to do and you will be back in under five minutes."

Maddie shook her head again and moved closer to Sherlock, who had his eyes closed but John knew he was listening.

"Seriously it's fine, no orders to force you lot to do anything." Moran was leaving but John needed Maddie to leave.

"Maddie, you won’t have another chance until tomorrow."

John stepped aside presenting Maddie with a straight line of sight to the open door.

He watched her as she seemed to go through everything in her head then she nodded once straightened her back and walked towards Moran without a word.

Once they had gone and John heard the lock slid into place he made his way to Sherlock and lent over him as though to check his eyes.

"You plan on leaving her." Sherlock said as he opened his eyes.

"I plan no such thing." John hissed. "But she will probably end up being collateral damage."

Sherlock continued to just look at him, his crystal like eyes still full of pain.

"I need you stronger before we make our move." John continued to lean forward, his back blocking the camera view and his voice as low as possible.

"Less than two weeks. I won’t be able to do much of anything."

"Yes you will. I need to hold back the painkillers; I need to save as much as possible so that when the time comes I can give you as much as I can without it knocking you out. I need you to walk out of here and it will happen."

They stared at each other for a moment longer, both of them communicating without words, a skill that had in the past come in very useful.

"How did I miss it?" Sherlock suddenly asked causing John to smile. "Moran knew but I didn't!"

"Me and Moran have a history."

"A history?"

"He left me to die." Moran spoke and John turned as he let Maddie back in the room. "Hot desert, gunshot wound to the stomach, the good doctor left me to die without so much as a backwards glance."

"Traitors don’t get put to the top of the list."

"They don't get put onto any list." Moran shrugged. "Just unlucky for you that I survived."

John stood fully and just held Moran's hard eyes. When the time came, John knew it would be hard, he knew he would have to get through Moran to get out and it would probably be the last thing either of them did.

"I'll be back tomorrow. You have nine days left." Moran broke eye contact first but only so he could look at Sherlock. "Make sure he can at least stand long enough to receive his first beating."

With that Moran left.

Closing his eyes John placed his hands over his face before running his fingers through his hair.

"Maddie?" He asked without looking at her.

"Windows, I couldn't see out of them though they are frosted and from what I could see they are sealed shut."

"So they have a separate bathroom for you. Ours don’t have windows."

John walked back over to the chair next to Sherlock’s bed and sat with a sigh.

"Day or night?" Sherlock asked suddenly as his eyes opened slightly.

"Dusk...I think." Maddie frowned. "The sky was pink to the left of the windows."

"But that means nothing because we have no idea where we are." John said and just fought back the urge to kick out, to punch something, anything.

"Maddie get some sleep." Sherlock said indicating the stretcher. "You were awake before either of us and you look ready to drop."

John looked at Sherlock, shocked at the compassion he seemed to be giving Maddie.

Maddie for her part just nodded. She did indeed look as though she was running on fumes and as soon as she pulled the sheet over herself she was asleep.

"It was an act." Sherlock murmured. "With Moran?"

"Yeah. I need her to get as much information as possible about where they take her."

"And what if they are listening?"

John shrugged. "They are but I can’t get us out of here if I don’t get a lay out." John tried to keep the frustration from his voice but as Sherlock caught his eye he knew there was no hiding from his friend.

"You're scared."

John laughed. "Scared is not even blip on the radar of what I'm feeling Sherlock."

Sherlock shifted on the bed wincing with every movement but not stopping till he was sat up his hand reaching out to John, who just stood and closed the small distance between them, sitting on the bed and allowing Sherlock to take his hand and then letting his head fall forward to lean on John's shoulder.

Things had shifted in the last few days, since that kiss, the one Sherlock didn't seem to remember, the dynamic between them had become more tactile. They spent more time reassuring through touch rather than words and Sherlock especially seemed greedy for it, something John was worried about but didn't dare mention.

Since the torture Sherlock seemed unbalanced, his thinking was slow, his observations lacking, and he was having trouble accessing his mind palace, something John only picked up a few hours ago when he watched as Sherlock tried to think but only became frustrated as he failed over and over again.

Gently, John found himself running his fingers through tangled curls, brushing through them with a care as Sherlock just held on.

"My...” Sherlock sighed and took a few breaths before starting again. “I can't think John. My mind has rebelled and I cannot think!"

"I know; I've been watching you."

Sherlock lifted his head a frown creasing his brow. "How, how am I missing all this?"

"Your body has gone through a wildly traumatic thing, it is healing, slowly, because I cannot give you everything you need. You should be on IV fluids, antibiotics, you also should have had at least two blood transfusions but you have only had one. Your body is weak Sherlock, there is no surprise that your brain is suffering, it is an organ, just like your heart." John's hand moved to Sherlock’s chest placing it over his heart. "Which is working hard to keep your depleted blood supply pumping around your body. But that depleted blood is helping to clot and heal all your wounds and so it is becoming more depleted, so your body is busy making more. So for now something has to give and that is your higher brain functions, the functions that enable you to think at super speed and to access every known fact saved within its hard drive."

Sherlock’s eyes held John's the whole time that John was talking and it allowed John to see wonder appear in those eyes for the first time.

"What?" John asked with a smile.

"I forget."

"Forget what?"

"That you are so much more than I give you credit for."

"Well after being a doctor for over twenty years I would hope I have some skill when it comes to looking after the human body."

Sherlock smiled slightly, it was one of those rare smiles that would normally light up his eyes, but this time failed to do so.

“You are not broken, you are healing and it will all come back, it will just take time.”

“Time we don’t have.”

“Greg and your brother are both probably pulling what little hair they have left out trying to find us, I’m sure they will get to us before it’s too late.”

“And if they don’t?” Sherlock asked in a tone that tried to hide his fear but John just saw through it. “My brother is good, but Moriarty is…he knows what he is doing, he knows what Mycroft is capable of and he is sure to have people on the inside, watching everything Mycroft does.”

“Then I will get us out of here.”

“How John? How when I can hardly walk, you are not by any means fit and we have a nurse who is scared to even use the facilities?”

“Trust me.” John simply said.

“Last time you said that you kissed me.” John’s eyes widened, his hand slowly moving from Sherlock’s chest.

“You remember that?”

“Yes…a little. I wasn’t sure if I dreamt it.”

“Right, so do you forgive me?”

“I forgive the meanness, as for the kiss, that’s something we do now right?” As if to test the point Sherlock lifted his hand still holding John’s and kissed the back of John’s hand.

“Yeah, it is.” John lifted his free hand to brush back a few of Sherlock’s wayward curls as Sherlock placed another kiss to John’s hand. “You should get some sleep.”

“All I do is sleep.”

“Because your body needs it. Sleep for me because I need you to be as ready as possible when the time comes.”

“On one condition.”

“What condition?”

“When this is over, when we are home, we keep this.” He gently ran his lips over John’s knuckles causing John to smile and lean his forehand against Sherlock’s.

“When this is over I plan on so much more.” John whispered and place a gentle kiss to the corner of Sherlock’s lips.

Sherlock fell asleep not long after, leaving John alone with his thoughts, his plans, all the while watching as the one person he could ever say to truly loving slept on, free, for now, as he dreamt and rested.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea this was going to happen, so forgive me, seriously, forgive me.

Sherlock jumped in his sleep causing John to turn to him as he sat on the chair his feet up on the end of Sherlock’s bed. Lowering his feet, John slowly stood as Sherlock jumped again, this time his hands twitching and he frowned deeply before a look of fear come over him.

“No…”

“Sherlock?” John moved to the head on the bed and gently place a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock flinched but he didn’t wake and he cried out as though he had been hurt. Pulling his hand away John became concerned as it became rather obvious that Sherlock was trapped in a nightmare, something that until now had not happened, something that John had been waiting almost a week for, dreading the moment when it would finally happen. Now that he was here however he knew he just had to help Sherlock wake and deal with the aftermath when he did wake.

“No…please…” Sherlock pleaded quietly his deep voice broken with fear.

“Sherlock you need to wake up.” John tried, this time gently running his hand through Sherlock’s hair. “You’re okay, you’re safe and I’m right here, but you need to wake up.”

A low moan escaped Sherlock’s lips as his face scrunched up and he started to shake violently.

“Please….no, stop, no! JOHN!!!!”

Across the room Maddie jumped as she woke, her eyes wide with fear, but John only glanced at her before looking back to his friend.

“Sherlock, I’m right here, open your eyes.” Leaning down lower he placed both his hands on Sherlock’s face his thumbs gently running over those impressive cheekbones. “Wake up.” John ordered, his voice louder and more commanding. “Sherlock Holmes open your god damn eyes and wake up!”

Sherlock woke violently, he lashed out his fist clenching as he clearly went to strike John, but John was quicker, catching the first in his hand as he grabbed Sherlock’s other wrist and pinned It to the bed.

Sherlock’s eyes where wild as he looked at John, it was clear he was still caught in the nightmare as he still fought but John watched as the world around Sherlock came back into focus, the nightmare slowly slipping from him.

“Hi.” John said softly as he slowly let go of Sherlock’s wrist and slowly lowered the other hand with Sherlock’s fist still clenched with it.

“You killed MaCormick.”

“Yes.”

“Divolt?”

“Who is Divolt?” John asked frowning.

“He…did this.” Sherlock looked down at himself and John hissed.

“I blew his brains out!”

“Good.” Sherlock relaxed and closed his eyes as he let out a breath. “Good.”

John sighed and lowered his head till it rested next to Sherlock’s, his left hand clenching the covers while his right rested over Sherlock’s frantic heart.

“I will not let them hurt you!” John’s voice was harsh but his body relaxed as long fingers threaded through his hair. “I will not let them do anything to you, I will rip them apart before they get to you again.”

“It’s okay John.” Sherlock tried to reassure but the fear was so clear in his voice it broke John’s heart.

Pushing himself up John looked down at his friend the hand on Sherlock’s chest moving to his face. “No, it’s not.”

“Well isn’t this a lovely picture.” A soft Irish voice whispered into the room.

John tensed and Sherlock’s attention went to the door.

“Not a surprise though, not even a tiny bit of a surprise.” Moriarty shook his head slightly stepping further into the room with Moran right behind him. “But it is disappointing.”

John didn’t dare move, he kept himself on the bed looking down at Sherlock with eyes so full of anger and fear he knew that Sherlock would say they were almost black in colour.

“James?” This was Maddie but still John refused to look away.

“Ah Maddie, what have you been doing?” Moriarty asked moving further into the room, then turning to look at Moran. “Oh Moran, you really had to go for the face? Such a shame, she was such a pretty little thing.”

Sherlock looked back to John then as though he could feel the need rolling off him, the need to do something, anything.

“John?” Sherlock moved his hands to hold John’s face. “John, it’s okay.”

“Oh you see its not Sherlock, it’s really not okay.” Moriarty said in a happy tone.

A gun shot rang out causing John to jump from the bed and position himself between Moriarty and Sherlock. However, the gun wasn’t aimed at either of them and when Maddie fell to the ground he reacted instinctively and went to her. In that instance Moran moved, grabbing John and pinned him to the floor, holding his arms behind his back. John struggled but as Moran pressed into his side his vision whited out as pain ripped through his body causing him to gasp back a scream that threatened him.

“Now, I am afraid the time line has shortened. I had really hoped to give you the two weeks to heal, but things have changed and that time line has shortened.”

As John’s vision cleared he saw Moriarty leaning over Sherlock.

“Get the fuck away from him!” John shouted earning him another hit to his side.

“James, get your man off John.” Sherlock breathed out as he watched Moran with hate in his eyes.

“Listen to you two, just listen. He has made you week Sherlock, pathetic really.” James moved his hand to Sherlock’s curls a smile upon his lips and yet it never reached his eyes. “You were great, you were so much fun and then he came along, he come and changed everything. Your little stupid goldfish.”

“He is so much more than that, so much more than we give him credit for.” Sherlock’s eyes flicked to John who was breathing hard, sweat beaded upon his brow and his blue eyes were on fire. “Let him go James.”

“No…your brother and that pesky DI have forced my hand, they have cut the time line and I am fed up of watching the two of you acting as though this is easy.” He moved closer to Sherlock his dead eyes holding the clear crystal eyes. “This is not easy.”

“I swear to god, if you don’t back away from him, I will kill you.” John hissed, pulling his arms in a bid to break free.

Moriarty slowly lifted himself up and turned to John a smile on his face. “I don’t doubt that John, I really don’t. But your time is up, it now my time to have some fun. Take them both to the second floor, get Sherlock ready and make sure John has the perfect view.”

John started to fight again, pulling as hard as he could against Moran, trying with everything he had to break free while Christen and the other guy started to unhook Sherlock from his IV lines.

“No...don’t you dare touch him!” John screamed as they pulled back the covers and got Sherlock to his feet.

“John, listen, it will be okay, everything will be okay.” Sherlock said as he was manhandled from the bed and John was pulled to his feet. “Just, don’t fight them, please don’t fight them.”

John looked up at Sherlock as he was brought closer and then long pale hands cupped his face. “Don’t fight them.” He whispered.

The hands left his face and then Sherlock was gone leaving John alone with Moran and Moriarty.

“You better kill me before you do anything to him.”

“Don’t worry your tiny little brain Doctor Watson, I’m sure you will enjoy the show, after all you will have the best seats in the house.” James came right up to him then and patted his cheek lightly. “You have it easy, Sherlock on the other hand, I am very much looking forward to making him scream.”

James left and Moran started to pull John form the room.

“Maddie.” John protested pulling against Moran and looking at the girl led on the floor, her blood pooling around her.

“It was a head shot John, she is gone.” Moran told him and pulled once again giving John no choice but to go with him.

As they made their way through the deserted halls John continued to struggle, but he also looked around, taking in everything as they made their way from what must have been the fourth floor down to the second.

Their destination was behind a set of double doors that swung both ways. It was a large open area, taking up most of the floor with what looked like small offices off to the left hand side. Windows took up most of the right but they had been blocked by card and black paint, leaving the only light source to be the strip lights overhead. The room itself was sparse with only a cage of some sort set up in the middle of the room.

Sherlock was stood between Christen and the other guy as John was led over to the cage, his pale eyes locking onto John as soon as he entered and not leaving even as John started to struggle all the more as Moran shoved him into the small cage.

“No, don’t…. stop!” John tried but it was no use. Moran was stronger, he hadn’t been given the time to heal and so he was easily forced into the cage. It was tall enough for him to stand in, but he wouldn’t be able to lay down in it, probably only sit with his legs stretch out before him. As the door closed he grabbed hold of the bars and just looked at Sherlock.

“Mycroft will come, he will, and so will Lestrade, they will come and they will get us out of this.” John tried to reassure, but even to himself he sounded unconvincing.

“It’s okay John.” Sherlock said with a nod. “Turn your back.”

“What? No!”

“Turn your back John.” Sherlock begged his eyes suddenly filling with tears. “Please John, turn your back.”

They stared at each other for the longest time, even as the guy with the black eyes turned to Sherlock and using the IV port injected something into the tall detective.

“What is that?” John asked, his knuckles whitening as his grip increased on the bars.

“Something of an old friend.” The man answered as he pulled the syringe out and patted Sherlock on the shoulder. “It won’t be long till he starts feeling it.”

“Feeling what? What did you give him?”

“Cocaine.” Sherlock answered for them, his eyes widening at the same time that his legs gave out and he fell to the floor.

“Sherlock!” John shouted as he shook the bars.

“John… please, please, turn your back.” Sherlock asked again as he started to lay down fully onto the ground, his arms wrapping around himself as the high started to hit. “Please John, please…”

John lowered himself to the ground so he was on the same level as Sherlock.

“I can’t, I can’t turn away from you.” John felt tears prick at his eyes but he refused to cry. “I can’t let you go through this alone.”

Sherlock smiled and blinked slowly as the cocaine flooded his system, heightening everything, he then frowned.

“Oh…” He breathed out as the pleasure from the high was replaced with something much worse.

“Sherlock?” John asked watching with concern as pain became evident on Sherlock’s face.

“I added a little something to the solution.” James said as he came to stand next to John’s cage. “The pleasure lasts only a few minutes, it is then replaced by something so much better, it allows the nerve endings to wake up fully, to feel everything.”

John turned to look at Moriarty with anger.

“It is the opposite to a painkiller.” John said as he looked back to Sherlock.

“Yes, it will allow him to feel everything.” Moriarty came round to stand before John before crouching down to look John in the eye. “I will keep him on this for as long as he lives, it will heighten every cut, every hit, every touch, every broken bone. It will probably be the thing to kill him, but it will be fun while it lasts.”

John’s arm shot out and he was shocked when he was able to grab a fistful of Moriarty’s suit and pulled the criminal mastermind against the bars.

“I will rip your twisted black little heart from your chest.” John hissed, his blue eyes like steel.

“I am counting on it.” John frowned at the man’s words and he let go of the suit as Moriarty just smiled at him.

“We will let him enjoy this first hit without interference.” James stood and brushed himself down as he walked towards the double swing door, clicking his fingers as he left, causing the others in the room to leave with him, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

“Sherlock come here.” John said as he reached out to the man slowly curling up into himself as he started to feel every last injury already upon his body as though they were being inflicted upon him for the first time. “Sherlock… Sherlock please, come here.”

“John…”

“I’m here, I’m right here, you just need to come over, I…I can’t come to you.” John reached with both arms, but Sherlock was about six feet away and he showed no sign of moving.

“I…oh god it hurts!”

“I know, I understand I really do, but you need to come here!”

“I can’t!” Sherlock shouted. “John, oh god John please-“He was suddenly sick, the heaving ripping at his stiches and causing him more pain. “John…”

“I’m right here…. I’m right here, right here.” John kept saying this over and over, he kept on telling Sherlock to come to him, but the man wouldn’t move, so he just kept on talking to him, telling Sherlock that he was right there and he wasn’t going to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

The bars were cold as he lent his head against them, his eyes wanting nothing more than to close, to sleep. But he couldn't, he wouldn't. Not while Sherlock curled up into himself, shivering hard from pain and cold.

"Sherlock, please.... just come here."

A moan was all that answered him sending another bolt of despair through him. He couldn't help.

They had killed Maddie with no regard, a clean shot yes, but still, she had helped them, had helped John save Sherlock and now she was gone.

Sherlock was a mess, of course he was. Tortured for three days, still recovering from his wounds and now given something that just made every cut, bruise and broke bone even worse. He was going through hell and John was useless, he could only watch as his friend suffered alone.

Lowering his eyes for the first time, taking them from the curled up form before him he just followed the bars that was his cage.

He was kept inside a simple cage, tall enough for him to stand in but not wide enough for him to lay down in.

He was at this moment in time sat on the cold concrete floor, the cage having no bottom and the only reason it stayed put was because it had been bolted to the floor.

Reaching out he ran his finger over one of the bolts then moved it to the floor and just started to pick away at flakes of concrete.

"John." Sherlock shifted and turned to face John for the first time.

"I'm here." John answered, still picking at the floor but looking up at Sherlock. "Come here."

"Can't."

"Okay. What are you feeling?"

"Hurts...everywhere."

"It will-" he stopped himself from talking. He was going to reassure, wanted to tell him that it would be over soon, but that would be a lie, and he had lied too much already. He had promised Sherlock that nothing more would happen to him, that he, John, would keep him safe. All lies, all promises he had broken.

"Don't." Sherlock said with force.

"Don't what?"

"Don't blame yourself."

John felt tears burn his eyes even as he smiled. "Still deducing?"

"No...I just know you."

John nodded, his fingers stopped picking at the floor around the blot and he reached out to Sherlock.

"Come here!" He ordered, his tone giving no hint of leeway, Sherlock would move and that was the end of it.

"John..."

"Now Sherlock!" John demanded grabbing the bars of his cage.

Sherlock sighed, a good sign, before he pushed himself up of the floor slightly and crawled towards the cage. When he was close enough John reached out grabbed Sherlock’s arm and pulled him till he was resting against the bars.

Closing his eyes John held onto the other man for dear life as he buried his nose in the curls that where pressed against the other side of the bars.

Feeling Sherlock shaking he tightened his grip on him and just muttered senseless words to him.

"Pocket." Sherlock whispered after a few minutes.

"Pocket?" John frowned.

"Left pocket." Sherlock lifted his face up, his eyes hooded, his pale skin covered in sweat and looking more grey than white. John held his glazed eyes for a moment before searching out the left pocket in Sherlock’s trousers. When he felt a hard metal object in the pocket his eyes widened but he didn’t move.

"Bolts." Sherlock’s eyes slid to the floor before he just let his eyes close and slump against the bars.

"Sherlock?" John lifted his hand to touch Sherlock’s face when the doors opened admitting Moran, Christen and the black eyed man who still had no name.

"Get him away from the cage." Moran order the two.

"No...no leave him!" John's hand tightened around the object in his hand and pulled it from the pocket. His other hand grabbed at Sherlock’s arm his fingers certainly leaving bruises.

"Back off Watson." Moran had walked with the others and using his rifle he pushed John back by pressing the barrel against the front of John’s neck. John fought it, he held on until the pain became too much and his breathing was compromising, his body betraying him, causing him to pull back and let go of Sherlock.

The two men pulled the now seemingly unconscious detective away and led him out on his back before they started to strip him.

"Sebastian please!" John called dropping the object in his hand and knelt to conceal it at the same time that he grabbed hold of the bars. It was pathetic, his voice hopeless, his eyes brimming with angry tears, his knuckles whiting as he gripped the bar.

It was a ruse, it was fake, it was a ploy and Moran just laughed.

"Very well done Watson!" Moran clapped, still laughing, all the while the others continued to strip Sherlock.

John's face changed instantly and he slowly stood, making sure to cover what he had pulled out of Sherlock’s pocket with his foot.

"Fine, what are you doing with him?" John nodded his head towards Sherlock now left in nothing and shivering slightly on the cold floor (so not unconscious).

"No clothes, allows for a better canvas, or so I'm told." Moran shrugged, showing that he really didn't care.

John felt his hopelessness rising, he could do nothing when they were with them, he was trapped in his cage like an animal with no choice but to watch. The problem with that though was that once he got out there would be no stopping him, meaning those in the room hurting the man he was in love with would wish that they never put him in a cage.

Breathing steadily through his nose, he just watches as the two men dealing with Sherlock wrapped black nylon rope around his ankles and wrists then lift his arms over his head so that he is totally stretched out on the floor.

“John…” A breathy whisper left Sherlock’s lips causing John to faulted in his breathing but he answered.

“I’m here, right here.” John kept his voice steady as he spoke even as Moriarty walked in as he spoke.

“As am I!” Jim said cheerily. “Now, what do we have here?”

“John…turn away.” Sherlock suddenly said, clear as anything.

“Not a chance.”

“Oh not this again!” Jim walked up to Sherlock and knelt on one knee and looked down at him. “Your pet is far to loyal Sherlock, just get over it, he will watch, he will probably enjoy it.” Jim looked up at John then with a smile on his face, his black eyes shining. “And I am pretty sure he will deny it all.”

John suddenly smiled causing Jim to frown.

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” John answered letting go of the bars and folding his arms not planning on saying another word.

“What? What are you so happy about?”

John continued to smile, his blue eyes not at all mirroring the smile on his lips. “I was just planning.”

“Ah, well you won’t be leaving here alive John, so don't waste what little brain power you have.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” John sighed happily as his brain continued to work on what it was he was going to do once he was free. “You know that I will get out, in fact, you’re planning on it.”

Jim twisted his mouth slightly looking back down at Sherlock before nodding. “Very well.”

Jim slowly undid his jacket pulling it from his arms and throwing it Christen, he then undid his shirt cuffs and rolled the sleeves up his arms.

“Now Sherlock, this is going to hurt.” Moriarty nodded and Moran picked up the length of rope attached to Sherlock’s wrists, while the black eyed man picked up that attached to his ankles. At the same time, they both pulled, hard, stretching out Sherlock’s arms and legs causing every wound, every broken bone, every bruise to waken, as well as dislocating at least one of Sherlock’s shoulders. The scream that filled the room made John feel sick, but he watched, he took note and he pledged to the man screaming that he would do so much more to those hurting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :( this fic really does have a life of its own and it is dark!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dear, I am so sorry for the wait!!!!!!!
> 
> I got stuck on this one, I didn't know how to proceed and then yay it came to me. 
> 
> Anyways enjoy and please let me know what you think.

The room was cold, it was dark, the only light coming from the swinging doors that seemed to be the only way in or out.

At least here John got a sense of time, he knew it was late, the night having drawn in hours ago, stopping what little sunlight had been able to leak through the painted windows, windows he had stared at for a time, trying to determine if there were any source of outside light, street lamps or any other buildings for example, but it would seem that there wasn’t.

Right now John was scraping away at the floor, digging around the bolts holding his cage down. His tool, a two-inch nail that somehow had found its way into Sherlock’s pocket. He never got to ask how the man had come to having it with him or how he had hidden it from Moriarty’s men, especially Moran. But he had and for that John was grateful, because it gave him hope of escape, even if it took a week.

At that thought he stopped, took a breath and lifted his head, his eyes now somewhat used to the dark. He could make out Sherlock spread out on the floor, still naked and probably freezing, but there was nothing either man could do. For one Sherlock was now tethered to the floor after stakes where forced into the concrete and the rope attached to Sherlock’s wrist and ankles had been attached to them, keeping him spread out, unable to curl up into himself, denying him any sort of warmth.

Not a week then, not even twenty-four hours. John needed to get Sherlock out, he need to destroy Moran and make sure to rip out Moriarty’s dark heart, preferably quick enough for the man to see it before he dies.

With renewed determination he went back to scrapping at the floor, digging down and down till he finally reached the bottom of the first bolt. Smiling, he made sure to dig all around the bolt making sure it was free before he gathered the dust he had formed making sure to fill in the hole he had made, hoping to hide what he had done.

Happy with his progress he moved onto the next bolt and started as he had done before, but this time having learnt from the first he went faster, where the first took nearly two hours, the second was done in an hour. He was just moving onto the third when a scream ripped through the quiet room.

Turning to Sherlock John grabbed the bars as the man thrashed against his restraints.

“Sherlock stop!” John shouted but Sherlock’s scream drowned out his voice even to his own ears.

“MORAN!!!!!” John demanded as the screams eased slightly, but no answer came.

“John…”

“Here, Sherlock, right here.”

“John please… Oh god, please stop…no….stop….STOP!!!!!!” With this John realised Sherlock was dreaming, his torment not ending with sleep, only continuing, an endless cycle that he couldn’t escape.

John stood the nail in his hand dropping, but he didn’t care. He had gotten two of the six bolts, it had to be enough. Grabbing the bars she started to pull and push, pull and push, the cage shifting slightly with its new found freedom, even if it only was in the form of two small bolts. Keeping up the momentum John felt as the other bolts started to shift within their concrete prison, felt as they moved, as they destroyed the walls holding them in place. He could do this, he could get out, he really could.

The swing doors thundered open and John stilled. Lights flooded the room causing Sherlock’s quietened screams to intensify once again.

John blinked against the suddenly brightness turning his head to his arm, protecting his eyes as best he could before peeking out and allowing his vison to adjust.

Once he was able to look he growled as the man with black eyes stood over a still screaming Sherlock.

“Get away from him.” The man looked up and smiled.

“Or what?”

“You really want to know?” John asked with a voice suddenly calm, almost like silk.

“Yeah, I really want to know.”

“You will be after Moran, him I will shoot, preferably through the head, right in-between his eyes. It will blow out the back of his skull, messy, but quick. You however will suffer, a deep cut to the throat, not a killing cut, no, a cut to the carotid artery, slow, painful, watching as your blood pools on the ground before you, unable to stop it. It will be slow for you because you have taken more pleasure in all of this than anyone else.”

The man stared as John talked, what little colour drain from his face as John’s soft voice spoke like a lover.

“You are one messed up piece of shit.”

John beamed. “You have no idea.”

The man looked back down at Sherlock now crying, tears running down his face, his eyes open but staring blankly at the ceiling.

Kneeling the man ran his eyes over Sherlock’s body and John knew, knew exactly what was about to happen.

“Touch him and I will make sure to cut off your cock and shove it down your throat before I even think about cutting neck.”

“But look at him John, look at how perfect he is, how utterly broken he has become.” Digging into his pocket the man pulled out a syringe. “Medicine time. Then some fun.” The last he said looking at John before wrapping a belt around Sherlock’s arm, finding a vain and administering the drug.

John’s knuckles whitened on the bars as he started to push and pull against the cage once again his eyes closing as he saw the man reach out and gently run his hand over Sherlock’s chest. He didn’t want to see, but even with his eyes closed he knew that hand wound be touching, moving slowly down and that was enough to fuel John, to feed his anger and his strength.

Shouting as the cage suddenly shifted hard, John fell to one knee as the cage fell back freeing John from his prison.

Snapping his eyes open he looked at the man, who was now stunned to stillness before leaping to his feet and running at full speed knocking the man to the ground and gaining great satisfaction at hearing the man’s head connecting hard to the solid floor.

Straddling the man’s legs John placed a few well aimed punches to the man’s face, blooding his nose and sending him unconscious in seconds. He then went about searching him and laughing as he found a gun placed down the back of the man’s jeans. Checking the clip, he loaded it back up and placed it down his own trousers. He also found a knife as well as an extra clip for the gun.

Happy with his stash he turned to Sherlock and without really paying attention to his friend he quickly untied his legs and arms before using the rope of the black eyes man after digesting the man of his clothes. Once he was done he got to his feet, pulling the gun free and walked over to the door and listened. No sound came from the other side, so he gently pushed open the door and looked down either side of the hall. One side led right through the building while the other led to another set of doors, probably to the stairs.

Moving back into the room he picked up the clothes he had taken and went to Sherlock.

“Sherlock?” John asked looking down at his friend who was still just staring. “Okay, I know that somewhere in the giant brain of yours you can hear me so I need you to listen. I need to leave you here, I don’t want to, I really don’t, but I need to get to the others first, I need to make sure I can get you out. But to do that I need to go alone.”

Reaching out he gently touched Sherlock’s face before taking the clothes and dressing him. First putting on the trousers and then stopping before putting on the top.

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry.”

Sherlock’s right arm was dislocated and he need to put it back in before dressing his friend. So with a practised hand he slowly moved the arm into position and then in one quick twist popped it back into place.

Sherlock arched, a shout of pain escaping his lips, but it was nothing compared to what John was used to hearing.

“Okay, hard part over.” Pulling and shifting his friend, John was able to get him to sit up allowing him to pull on the black jumper.

“John?”

“It’s okay love, I have you.” John wrapped his arms possessively around thin shoulders, a hand going to tangled curls.

“Don’t be long.” Sherlock whispered.

“I won’t.” Pulling back, he took hold of Sherlock’s face and stared into pain filled eyes. “I promise this ends tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Leaning forward he gently placed a kiss to fevered skin before placing the knife in Sherlock’s hand. “Protect yourself.”

“You too.”

After helping Sherlock to the wall closest to the door, he stood, nodded and with the gun in hand, safety off he made his way to the door, determination running though his veins, he would get them out of the hell they had found themselves in even if it was the last thing he did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to note, no you haven't missed a chapter.

 

Lestrade held up a hand as the sound of footsteps and muttered words could be heard from the halls just around the corner from the one he was in. His men instantly stopped, each find a position and holding it as still as possible as they waited.

The footfalls stopped, the muttering increasing slightly but Greg couldn’t make out what was being said, only that there were two voices.

With his hand still up, the order to stay still clear Greg was just about to give the order to move forward, weapons at the ready, when the footfalls started again this time only one set. Seconds later a gun was place between his eyes.

“Hold!” Greg shouted as blue eyes went from cold hard steel to soft tired and thankful. The gun lowered as John took a step back, letting out a breath and sliding down the wall as his back met.

“About time Greg.” He breathed before turning his head and looking down the hall. “The cavalry finally arrived.”

Greg blinked a few times as he took in John, covered in blood, a deep cut to his left temple, his skin pale and his body looking a lot thinner than the last time he had seen him. He then turned to look down the hall to find Sherlock with an arm wrapped around his stomach, his back against the wall and his legs giving out as he took in Greg with eyes clouded and lost.

“I was wondering when you and my brother would be joining us.”

Grey looked down at John.

“How?”

“How did we get away?”

“Yeah.” Grey nodded.

John smiled, a smile that was cold and not at all what he was used to seeing on the normally controlled and well-mannered man he knew as John Watson.

“It’s a story that needs telling after a good night’s rest and a hell of a lot of painkillers.”

 .~.~.~.~.

The sound of voice’s, like bee’s buzzed around him and it was really starting to get on his nerves.

Slowly allowing his eyes to open, hoping to not to alert anyone to the fact he was awake he took in the silhouette of Mycroft, Lestrade and probably his doctors through the glass of the door to his room. John’s outline was missing.

Sighing he turned his head away from the door and took in the room around him before his eyes landed on the other bed. It was empty, but its covers were a mess, clearly someone had been sleeping there. Staring at the bed for a while his mind tried to work through the clues. Mycroft wouldn’t have let Sherlock share a room with just anyone, yet no other clue to who he would be sharing a room with came to him.

The door opened behind him and he closed his eyes, he really didn’t want to talk to anyone unless it was John.

“Do you need a hand getting back into bed?” A voice asked, one he didn’t know and fear suddenly gripped him. Feeling his heart rate increase he gripped the cover as he tried to steady his breathing but he was losing, quickly.

Alarms around him started to go off and then a warm hand was placed over his clenched fist.

“Sherlock, it’s okay. You’re safe.” His eyes shot open at the voice his eyes falling to John, sat in a wheelchair, his blue checked dressing gown from home wrapped around him. The cut on his temple had stiches, his hair was clean and he had had a shave.

“John.” His voice shook and some part of him thought that he should feel shame at himself for sounding so lost, so desperate, but he really didn’t care.

“Shh.” John pushed himself up off the wheelchair wincing slightly but not allowing his pain to stop him. As he moved onto Sherlock’s bed he gently reached out and brushed back a few strands of dark hair before leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together.

“You’re safe, I have you.” Sherlock’s hand gripped at John’s arms his shoulders until both hands delving into soft grey blonde hair. He needed to ground himself, John was it, he was his way of keeping himself there, in the now.

“Where are we?” He asked his left hand moving from silken hair to John’s shoulder, his fingers tightening.

“Bart’s, always Bart’s. But Mycroft wants you moved.” John whispered back, his eyes closed even as he gripped at the cotton t-shirt Sherlock wore.

“Only if you come.”

“The place he wishes to send you won’t allow it.” Sherlock pushed gently at John’s shoulder so the older man pulled back slightly and looked down at him. “The drug…”

Sherlock growled suddenly, his mind filling in what John left off.

“I can fight it.”

“Sherlock you woke up yesterday and screamed for hours.” Sherlock frowned his fingers loosening slightly as he shrank back onto the bed.

“I…” He blinked then looked up at John his eyes suddenly widening. “Oh god…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine, your safe and it will all be okay.”

A burning pain started in the pit of his stomach and slowly started to spread.

“John- “His back suddenly arched, his body going ridged.

 .~.~.~.~.

John shifted off the bed as soon as Sherlock let loose a scream of pain, the room flooding with nurses and doctors instantly. Stepping back, he felt a hand steady him as he stumbled slightly, turning to find Greg holding him.

“Come on.” Grey pulled him back slightly to John’s side of the room.

John let himself be moved by the DI but his eyes never left Sherlock’s form as his body continued to fit, as it tried to dispel the drug Moriarty had been giving him. The drug that John knew would either kill, or cause such damage to Sherlock that he would probably end up on medication of some sort for the rest of his life.

_“This was always the plan John. You had to get out, you had to set you and Sherlock free, but it won’t save him.” Moriarty let his eyes lock onto the gun point at his head, the barrel only an inch or so away from his skin. “Sherlock will die; I’ve already seen to it.”_

_“You have to have a cure.” John stated, it was a fact not a question._

_“Of course I do John, but I won’t be telling you anything about it.”_

_John pressed the barrel hard against Jim’s forehead growling slightly as he did so. “Tell me!”_

_“No, I don’t think I will.”_

_John raised the gun and hit the crazed master villain over the head, causing him to crumple to the ground._

John blinked, coming back to himself.

“Greg I need your help.”

“Of course John, anything.” John turned to look up at Greg.

“I have Moriarty tied up, I need him to tell me how to help Sherlock.” Greg’s eyes widened slightly.

“Mycroft- “

“Won’t let me anywhere near him.” John held Greg’s eyes, waiting for the DI to understand.

“John I- “Sherlock suddenly scream again causing John to tense, his heart rate rocketing.

“Greg I will do this with or without you, but I need to go, now!”

He didn’t see when Greg made his decision, didn’t see the cold resolve settle over him, the determination to help Sherlock no matter the cost.

“Let’s go.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving my small little bridge chapters right now hehe.  
> Small, not sweet, defiantly not happy, but lady's and gent's meet John Watson.

By the time John had signed all the papers to discharge himself, against medical advice, Sherlock had screamed himself horse before passing out. It would seem sedatives didn’t work, they only seemed to heighten whatever was already in Sherlock’s system and so they could only sit back and watch as he screamed and fought against anything that touched him.

John was sat next to Sherlock’s bed when Lestrade returned with a change of clothing for John, a pare of dark jeans, a deep blue t-shirt and a jacket John hadn’t worn since his army day’s, a black leather jacket that sat on his hips and just made him look younger.

“You sure about this John?” Lestrade asked as John pulled on the jacket.

“Just take me there if you don’t want any part in this Greg, but yes, I am sure.” Once finished dressing John moved back to Sherlock. “I need to find this cure.”

“I understand that, I really do, it’s just…I’m fighting with myself here John.”

John turned to Greg his eyes hard.

“They made me watch, as they drugged him, dislocated his shoulder, hurt him, stripped him, I watched from a cage and I could do nothing to stop them.” John looked down at Sherlock his eyes running over the peaceful face, the cut at his hairline healing well, but it would scar. It was the only thing visible on the sleeping man to show he had been through anything, but under the covers, under the hospital issue gown was a body broken and hurting. “Moriarty had cure.”

“What if he lied John?” Greg asked quietly.

“Then I will make him pay.”

 .~.~.~.~.

The car was quiet as it pulled up at the building that had been John’s and Sherlock’s prison. A nondescript building, run down and clearly abandoned, the only sign that something had gone down here was the police tape and a marked police car standing guard.

“How did you find us?” John asked suddenly. He hadn’t been given any information about how they had been found.

“Mycroft got a tip off.” Lestrade said with a shrug.

“Moriarty.” John said as he opened the car door, stepping out into the bright sunshine.

“But why?” Greg asked as he too got out of the car closing it behind him.

“He wanted us free, I suspect it was so we could all watch Sherlock suffer, knowing that everything we tried would fail and we would have no choice but to watch him die.”

“Jesus.” Greg ran a hand through his hair as he looked across at John. “How did you escape?”

“Broke out the cage, dispatched the first guard, a black eyed man that wanted to rape Sherlock. I just knocked him out, but by the time I had returned to Sherlock his neck at been slit.” John started to walk towards the building.

“Sherlock?” Greg asked already knowing the answer.

“He had woken and Sherlock was high, in pain and frightened, he reacted on instinct.”

“What about Moran? We found him-“

“Shot him in the head, I didn’t even give him a chance to fight, I did that once and lived to regret it.” They reached the door with the take across it, Greg pulling it all down and allowing John into the building.

“We searched this building John, we would have found Moriarty.”

John laughed at that, a dark humourless laugh. “Have you even worked it out yet Greg?”

“What? Your training? Your former life?” Greg asked as they walked through the halls, John leading. “Ex-military, that it obvious, doctor again obvious. But there is more, so much more. You’re a crack shot, that much became clear after you shot the cabbie.”

John glanced at Greg an eyebrow raised.

“Oh please, I worked that out the moment Sherlock stopped what he was saying and looked over at you. But remember, Mycroft showed up that night.”

“I just thought he was there to stick his nose in.”

“In a sense, yes. But he wanted his brother’s new friend, his new protector to be safe. He pulled a lot of strings that night.”

John sighed. “I’ve not really lived up to the protector side of all that, have I?”

“John, whatever your former life, your training has helped to get Sherlock free, it stopped further harm and probably saved both your lives.”

John stopped outside a door turning to look Greg in the eyes.

“I’m John Watson, formally of the fifth Northumberland fusiliers, doctor, surgeon. MI5 sleeper agent. Trained since childhood, I have no family, Harry is a former agent, I treat her as a sister after her wife was tortured and killed before her eyes. I haven’t been active for nearly six years, my last assignment involved Moran, the mistake I made was leaving him alive.”

He paused watching Greg carefully, reading his face, his reactions. “Mycroft Holmes knows exactly who I am, what I am capable of. The first time I met him he basically had me cleared of all past mistakes, faked a lot of my background, officially had Harry made my sister, issued me a firearm, begged me to look after Sherlock, even offered me payment, I refused that. But I took my role as Sherlock’s protector seriously.” John looked to the door they stood at his face hardening once again.

“What is about to happen will not be pretty, it will not be easy and it will defiantly involve a lot of blood and screaming.”

Greg ran a hand through his hair then nodded. “Let’s go.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I couldn't write the horrible stuff, I think because part of me really doesn't want to know what John does to Moriarty, so have fun coming up with your own interpretation of what goes on.

The room they enter was dull, the windows washed with white paint, just like most of the other windows in the building, though one here was smashed allowing at least someday light to flood in.

John walked to the middle of the room, cardboard that covered the floor swallowing up his footfalls, other than said cardboard the room was empty.

“John?” Lestrade asked looking around with confusion.

“Here.” John started to kick back the cardboard before leaning down, pain clear in his face as the wound at his side protests, to moving back the heavier sheets. Lestrade rushes forward to help, raising an eyebrow as a hatch appears.

“You really should talk to your men about searching places better.”

“Agreed.”

“Do you mind?” John asks indicating the hatch. Lestrade hesitates only a second before grabbing the handle to the hatch and pulling. The sight that greats him causes him to step back as the hatch falls fully open, the sound of it falling to the ground echoing through the empty room.

“Jesus John.”

“He’s fine, I was able to find enough of the drug to make him stay out of it.” Lestrade’s eyes widened slightly at John’s words.

“Your used the same drug he used on Sherlock.”

“Yes.” John crouched down to looking at Moriarty, curled up on his side, blood staining his collar, and face though it was now dry and cracked slightly. “Time to wake up spider.”

Jim flinched slightly at the voice, curling up more.

“Come on Jim, it was only one hit, and you don’t have broken bones, cuts and a gunshot wound to contend with.”

Lestrade watched, feeling slightly sick, but not wanting to interfere or stop John in anyway. The John Watson he knew wouldn’t stand for this though, he wouldn’t want another human to suffer, yet here John was, looking down at a man clearly suffering and not caring in anyway.

“John- “

“Greg this is your last chance to leave.” John’s eyes when he looked up at Greg were dark, emotionless and deadly.

“John, Sherlock wouldn’t want this.”

John suddenly laughed. “No, he wouldn’t, because he is not a killer. He solves murders, helps stop terrorists, saves kidnapped children, and catches serial killers. He is the hero in all the stories, he is the one that saves the innocent. My job however is to save him, to protect him, to do what he cannot.”

John looks down at Moriarty. “This tale ends with a murder; he is the victim I am the murderer.” John glances at Lestrade. “Choose to be part of it or leave, arrest me after, not before, because I will get the cure for what he gave to Sherlock.”

Lestrade felt his heart beating hard and fast, he was a cop, sworn to protect no matter what and before him were two men, one a criminal mastermind, the cause of so much death and pain, the other an agent who was completing his mission; save the man he had sworn to protect.

“Just do what you have to”

John nods before jumping into the pit, grabbing Moriarty by the stained shit he wore and pulled him up till the thin Irish man stood, moaning in pain as John pushed him to the side of the pit.

“Greg?” John asked, his eyes not leaving Jim’s.

Greg steels himself, then reaches down pulling Moriarty from the pit. John gets himself out and helps to move the half unconscious man to the cardboard.

Once they have him down, Greg step’s back. “I can be here, but I can’t help anymore, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine Greg.” John mutters and he starts to slap at Moriarty’s face. “Come on Jim, time to wake up.”

.~.~.~.~.

Greg stumbles out of the door twenty minutes later, the scream that follows him finally causing him to empty his stomach. With one hand pressed against a wall he closes his eyes and just breaths in deeply trying to clear his mind and calm his stomach.

“Greg?”

John’s voice was steady calm, blood covered his hands, it spattered him face, stained his clothes.

“Dead then?”

“Dead.” John nodded once. “But we have our cure.”

Greg pushed away from the wall, turning to look at John in the eye. “What you did…John, what the hell happened to you?”

“He hurt Sherlock.” John states simply as he wipes his hand on a piece of white fabric, fabric that had belonged to Moriarty’s shirt.

“No, there is more to it than that.”

“Yeah, he hurt and nearly killed the man I love.” John throws the now red rag down on the ground and heads towards the exit.

.~.~.~.~.

Sherlock’s screams echoed down the hall as John pushed open the door. He had showered and changed since leaving the warehouse, since killing Moriarty and finding the cure. His trainer clad feet pounded down the hall, as the scream’s increased, sending adrenalin through his body at lightning speed.

Reaching Sherlock’s room, it was to find staff working hard trying to, one calm Sherlock and two ease whatever was causing his pain.

“Move.” John ordered causing staff to still at the command in his voice, then move back as he headed to Sherlock’s bed. Reaching him, he grabbed Sherlock’s hand bringing the knuckles up to his lips and just holding on tight. “I’m here, Sherlock, I’m here.”

“John.” Sherlock’s voice was harsh, rough from screaming, dry from lack of water.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I have you.” Looking up he spots the lead doctor, puts his free hand in his coat pocket and draws out the vile that would cure Sherlock. “Test it, do whatever you have to do to use it and then give it to him, just make sure it won’t kill him first.”

“I’ll see to it done.” Mycroft appears from behind the wall of people, holding out his hand for the vile. John tightens his hand around it for a moment as the two of them just stare at each other. “Trust me John.”

John’s hand open, allowing Mycroft to take the vile.

“Get out, all of you.” John orders and watches as the hospital staff leave, Sherlock hand calmed down now, there was no need for them.

“John…Maddie?” Sherlock breaths out causing John to frown.

“Maddie is dead Sherlock.”

“No, she….she was here.” Sherlock opened his eyes, they were blood shot, dilated. “She was here.”

“No, Moran shot her, I saw it.”

Sherlock was breathing hard, his grip on John’s hand increasing. “John…”

“It’s okay, I have what you need to make you better, I just need it tested first.”

“John…” Sherlock sounded lost, confused. “John, please, please, I can’t…just…oh god, please, just give me more, please John.”

John felt tears threaten as a lump grew in his throat. This brilliant man, the man that held his heart sounded so alone, was in so much pain and John could do nothing.

“You can’t have more Sherlock.”

“Please! Just one hit, just…. anything, heroin, you can get me heroin.”

“No I can’t.”

“Arghh then what is the point of you.” Sherlock pulls his hand free then starts to pull at his IV lines.

“Sherlock no!” John stands, grabs Sherlock’s wrist and pushes them down so that they are on either side of Sherlock’s head. Now only inches from Sherlock’s face John freezes as glazed blue, green, silver eyes look up at him.

“Kiss me.” Sherlock suddenly demands. “Kiss me John, you said you would, so do it.”

“Sherlock, you are high, you don’t know what you are asking.”

“Kiss me!”

John wants to, god does he want to, but he won’t, not when Sherlock was like this, off his head and not knowing what it was he was asking.

“No.”

“John.” Sherlock moans, his body arching up as If he was trying to push himself closer. “Please.”

“Not like this.” John whispered, but he lent down, his lips brushing at Sherlock’s cheek, running over the sharpness of it, shivering at the feel of warm skin, before he moves closer to Sherlock’s ear. “Not like this my love, I want our first kiss to be remembered, to be mutual, to be ours. If I kissed you now it would be his, would belong to him and I won’t have that.”

When he pulls back it was to the sight of Sherlock crying, tears flowing freely from his eyes, running down the sides of his face.

“John.”

“It’s okay.” John slowly let go of Sherlock’s wrists, placing them instead upon Sherlock’s face. “It’s okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

They left him alone, left him with Sherlock, never once asked for him to leave, didn’t even try to get him to move away as they took Sherlock’s stats. He didn’t once leave, only to use the adjoining bathroom, nothing more.

After his day, after what he had done, he was tired, bone weary but he couldn’t sleep. Sherlock had passed out hours ago, his burst of energy drained quickly, his body’s need to rest quickly taking over and causing him to crash so hard John had been unable to get any reaction from him.

“John?” Mycroft’s voice broke through John’s silent reflection, causing him to spin to look at the elder Holmes.

“Well?”

“It will work, but it will take time. We need to synthesise more, but for now.” Mycroft held out a vile a clear liquid not even reaching the half way point. “This should ease his suffering for the short term.”

Standing John took the vile, holding it up to look at it. “I thought it was a cure.”

“It is, but it is slow acting just as the drug itself is, it will work though.”

“How the hell have you been able to determine that it the time you have had.”

“Because that drug is of our making John. How Moriarty got hold of it is something I am personally looking into.”

John processed this information, then moved on. “And the cure?”

“We only just started making one, how Moriarty made one so quickly is yet again something I am trying to find out.”

Licking his lips John walked to the door grabbed the first nurse he saw and ordering a needle to give Sherlock the cure.

“The doctor will-“

“I am his doctor.” John said his eyes hard. “Now get what I asked for.”

Closing the door, he went back to Sherlock’s bedside, once again picking up his long pale hand and holding the fingers to his lips.

“Moriarty’s body has been found.”

“Took you long enough.” John muttered, his eyes not leaving Sherlock.

“John, he was…”

“Mycroft we will both not lower each other to not knowing who we are, what exactly we are both capable of. We both know I did that, that I…” John laughed slightly. “Sherlock doesn’t even know, so well trained that I can keep it from the most observant man in the world. He has no idea what I have done, what I am capable of.”

“He won’t care.”

“Yes he will, he will care because I tricked him.” John smiled against the pale fingers. “He will love it, love the mystery of it, will want to learn everything…everything.”

Closing his eyes, he felt tears building, the lump in his throat returning.

“Your files are sealed, the only people that has access to them is myself and you.”

“Get rid of them.” John said, his voice tense. “Get rid of all of them, burn them, delete them, do what every you can but just get rid of them!”

“John it’s not that simple.”

“Of course not.”

At that moment the nurse walked in with what John had asked for. She went about cleaning an IV line then allowing John to administer the cure.

“From what our men have told me it can take a while to work.” Mycroft said as John took off his gloves and disposed of the needle.

“Everything takes time.” John looks up at Mycroft. “Say it.”

“Say what John?”

“Say what you want to, what has been on the tip of your tongue since you met me, since we got back, since you found out Moriarty was dead. Say it.”

“Thank you, thank you for sticking with him, thank you for saving him, thank you for killing Moriarty, thank you.”

“So do as I ask, get rid of it all, delete it all, every bit of it.”

“John he will work it out.”

“I don’t care, let him. But there are thing’s in that file, things he cannot know, things I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Some of your missions are impossible to be rid of.”

“Then change the name-“

“Your name is already different Au-“

“Don’t! Don’t ever call me that, not ever!” John hisses.

Silence falls in the room, Mycroft watching John as John watches Sherlock. The two men know what John is asking is almost impossible, but it could be done. John want’s free of his past, a past steeped in blood and death, a past he fought against in every dream.

“I was three when my parents died, five when my anger became too much for foster carers to deal with, six when they came and took me to be trained. I killed for the first time at the age of twelve, completed my first mission at sixteen, went dark at eighteen. Since then I have killed, I have saved, I have tortured, I have done everything that has ever been asked of me.” John looks at Mycroft, tears in his eyes. “I’m forty-two years old, I have had enough. Erase me, let me sleep for the rest of my life and I will do everything in my power to keep Sherlock safe.”

“Very well.” Mycroft says with a nod. “I will see to it done, by the end of the day, Austin Carver will no longer exist.”

John lets out a breath, closing his eyes and trying hard to control his racing heart, his burning emotions.

“Thank you.” He finally whispers as Mycroft walks to the door to let himself out.

“Look after him John. Be good to him.”

“Always.” John answers as he kisses Sherlock’s knuckles.

 .~.~.~.~.

It takes two days for Sherlock to wake again, two days of receiving the cure every twelve hours, four doses in total so far, but still not enough, his body still craved the other drug, his heart racing whenever it got close to giving him the next dose of the cure.

John was asleep when Sherlock finally opened his eyes, it was early morning, a nurse had just left after taking Sherlock’s stats. It had been the blood pressure test that had caused him to become aware of the waking world.

Blinking a few times Sherlock slowly let his eyes adjust to the light of the hospital room before looking about, taking in everything around him.

When his eyes landed on John he smiled slightly, his eyes closing a moment before he slowly forced them back open.

“J…” He started then winced at the dryness of his throat. Looking about again he searched for water, ice, anything to ease his throat, but there was nothing.

Licking his lips, he returned his attention back to John. The doctor had been through a lot since Sherlock last registered seeing him, he however just couldn’t connect everything, couldn’t deduce what it was exactly John had done.

As he led there he felt his body try to force him back to sleep, but he wanted to talk to John, to have John look at him, to have John touch him, because then and only then would he truly trust that he was free.

“John.” He tried again, this time getting the whole word out but his voice no more than a whisper. Clenching his fists, he tried again but ended up coughing, a lot, which in the end was the thing that woke John Watson.

“Sherlock.” John had water, how did John have water? Sherlock wondered even as John tilted the bottle of water allowing it to dribble over his dry lips and soothing his aching throat. “Easy, take it easy ‘lock.”

Leaning back as he swallowed slowly, painfully he looked up at John as he placed the bottle on a bedside locker before turning to look at Sherlock, a smile on his lips.

“Hey there.” Fingers ran gently down the side of his face causing his eyes to close as he pushed himself more against the hand. “You had us worried, you have been out of it for two days.”

“Sorry.”

John laughed slightly, “I think that is the first time you have ever apologised for something.”

Opening his eyes, he looked back to John, his breathing had changed, becoming harsher as he felt his heart rate increase.

“Something…something…”

“It’s okay.” John’s hand left his face causing him to moan in loss slightly, but his mind soon became take up with trying to control his breathing.

“John…” He gasped searching out the doctor.

“Right here, this will help, just try to keep breathing, in and out as slowly and as comfortably as you can.” John had gloves on, a syringe in hand which he was putting into one of Sherlock’s IV lines.

“What?” Sherlock asked, his eyes on the line as the clear liquid made its way into his body.

“The cure to whatever Moriarty gave you.” John answered as he pulled off his gloves. “Mycroft has worked out that after a week it should have taken fully effect.”

“Mycroft?”

“Yeah, he had the cure tested and synthesized.”

“Where did…you get it?” John smiled brightly.

“More than one word, will done.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed but John just lent down and placed a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Try and get more sleep Sherlock.”

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you tell me?” John’s lips pressed harder against his temple before he pulled back to look Sherlock in the eyes.

“Once we are home, once we are back to being, us. Then yes I will tell you, not everything, but I will tell you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock stops at the threshold to the living room. It was the same, nothing much had changed, apart from the obvious dusting Mrs Hudson had done in the last twenty-four hours, there was still papers lying about, laptops half opened, Sherlock’s last experiment still spread out on the table. The only difference was one wall was covered in a map of London and red pen circled an area several times.

"It still annoys me no end that it took me three days to find you." John says as he makes his way past Sherlock to stand before the map. "Three fucking days! Of course I was being fed false leads, but I knew that. However, I still couldn't find you."

Sherlock could clearly hear the frustration, the anger in John's voice. He knew if John looked at him now he would also see it written all over his face, after all, John was an open book. Or so Sherlock had thought.

Two years he had lived with this man, a man that wore god awful jumpers, made perfect tea, was a crack shot and was the most interesting person Sherlock knew.

But there was a problem, it was lie. What John Watson was, how he showed himself was all a lie and now that they were back home, it all came crashing down in spectacular fashion.

Gripping the door frame Sherlock turned away from John, his eyes closing tightly as he tried to breath normally.

"Sherlock!" Of course John was at his side instantly, a hand on his arm as the other gently touched his face. "Okay just slowly take in what you can and then slowly let it out, that's it. And again..." John kept talking, Sherlock followed the instructions as what was clearly a panic attack sunk it's claws into him.

As he tried to breath though it all he wished he could push John away, yet John was the one keeping him grounded, stopping the panic from totally over taking. But then John was the reason, the cause.

John, John, John.

"Name." Sherlock finally said when he had been allowed to take in enough oxygen for that one word.

"What?"

"What...is your name?"

Johns hand tightened slightly on Sherlock's arm, but it was the only change in the man before him.

"Austin Craver."

"Austin..."

"Yes."

"John is better."

He could feel John smile, could feel the force of it even with his eyes closed.

"I agree. Do you think you can move to the sofa?" John asked as his thumb ran over Sherlock’s cheek.

"Yeah."

Sherlock let himself be led, his eyes still refused to open, especially now he had a name.

Once sat down he placed his head in his hands and just breathed, letting the air clear what it could as he started to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Sherlock...now," John paused as he took his own steadying breath. "Now might not be a good time, but I will answer what I can, what I feel needs answering."

"So you will still hide, still lie, still deceive?"

Sherlock finally opened his eyes to find John knelt before him, his head lowered, hand in his lap, fist open, palms facing up as though he was looking at them for the first time.

"Austin Craver did things, unspeakable, evil things. Things I can't...I can't think about, let alone talk about."

"Start with why you have never told me."

John laughed, he laughed and looked up his hands clenching once again.

"I'm a sleep agent Sherlock, I couldn't even tell god himself if he came down and asked me."

"I'm not god." Sherlock said seriously.

"No, you're not, you are so much more."

"Don't try to flatter John, answer the question."

"You know the term 'sleeper agent', you know what it entails. I'm tracked constantly and if they had any idea you knew-"

"I know now."

"Because I made Mycroft end it."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes his fists clenching tightly.

"Of course he knew Sherlock." John said before Sherlock could even form a coherent sentence. "He kept a lot of my file...no, no he didn't keep it from you. He gave you a fake, a cover up file."

"How-"

"Please remember you know who I am now Sherlock. I'm not just an army doctor. I'm smart, not as smart as you, but I can be just as observant, just a knowledgeable. I knew you had a file, that Mycroft had given you it and that it has my service history from the army but That and only that was the truth."

"Harry?"

"Harry is my sister but not in blood. We trained together, had missions together. I gave her away at her wedding, held her as she screamed her grief after watching her wife being killed in front of her. Tried so hard to keep her sober. I love her as a sister I never had. So though we grew in different homes, she is my sister."

"Okay...body count?"

John paled but he took a breath and answered.

"Over two hundred."

It was Sherlock’s turn to pale, if that was even possible.

"Dear god..."

"I told you I...Austin has done some horrible things."

"Including destroying a whole village?" Sherlock asked mockingly, but the look John gave him spoke volumes. "Bloody hell, John!”

"I killed a family in Iraq. They had a large villa. At least four generations lived there, grandparents, aunties, uncles, sons, daughters. I set the charges, blew the house, shot anyone that tried to leave."

John's voice had changed as he spoke, it became cold, almost dead.

"Children?"

"Yes."

Sherlock searched his eyes. He didn't know what it was he was after, what he searched for but he found it. Guilt, sorrow, heartache.

"A four or five-year-old made it out...I let him go." John suddenly stood turning away from Sherlock as his hands delved into his hair gripping it tightly. "I never told anyone that, not even Harry."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you tell me, yet told me that."

"I don’t know."

"John-"

"I DONT KNOW!" John suddenly yelled spinning back to Sherlock. "Every day I went to tell you, opened my mouth to spill everything but every time the words got stuck. My past is full of blood, full of pain and death. I wanted to forget it all, to live a normal life."

Sherlock found himself scoff at that.

"Normal is not something you could handle."

"No, but I tried, and then I found you. You who offered me a life out of the shadows yet gave the same adrenaline hit a mission in some god awful country could give me. You made normal look boring, you also made every mission I had been on pale in comparison to what you offered." John paused, his eyes searching Sherlock’s.

"I gave myself the name John Watson to join the army, but it was only a cover, it wasn’t real, I was still Austin Carver. You however made John real, you gave him purpose, a reason to carry on, to live, not again, but for the first time. You gave me a life I could never have hoped to have.

John Watson may not be the name I was born with but it is who I am because I cannot and will not go back to being Austin because then I won’t have you."

John reached out then holding Sherlock’s face in his hands.

"I love you. I will love you as John, as Austin, as every single alias I have ever taken because they are all me. Do you understand that?"

Sherlock sat frozen. He had known that John had developed a deep sentimental feeling for him, but he had started to think it a lie. After all John wasn’t real, he was fake, a persona the man before him had made up. Yet here this man was claiming to love him no matter what form he took.

"Will you kiss me yet?" Sherlock responded as he just stared up at John. Because that was who he was, he was John Watson, a man with a past, just like Sherlock.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I want a kiss? Yes. Sure that I want this, you, all of you, god yes!"

John smiled, and then he was kissing Sherlock.

Sherlock's mind raced through ever small touch of lips since John had kisses his hand, every touch, every sigh, every thought of want, every feeling if needing John near him. This was right, this kiss was theirs, and he was so glad John had waited.

Pulling back, John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s and just breathed.

"One day you will know it all, I promise." John whispered as he placed small butterfly kisses over Sherlock’s eyes and cheeks before kissing him again.

"I don’t care, you are John to me, your past means nothing, I only care for it because it led you to me. But now you are mine...that sounds good. You are mine John Watson, that is all I care about."

John smiled at him before sitting down next him on the sofa, his hand picking up Sherlock’s and twinning their fingers together.

"You still need to recover. The drug is out of your system but I watched you walk up the stairs. Your leg is still bothering you."

"Yes."

"Right, so a few more weeks of taking it easy."

"I guess." Sherlock frowned, he knew all this already.

"Right." John was watching their linked hands.

"John?"

John took in a breath before slowly letting it out.

"I want to take you to bed." John finally admitted. "God do I, but until you can run across roof tops again I won't."

Sherlock tried to keep his beating heart under control, but he was sure that disappointment showed on his face because John laughed slightly.

"We waited for the kiss. Now we can wait for the next part."

"Right." Sherlock sighed.

Still smiling John lent to whisper in his ear. "I need you fit, strong and unhurt, because when I do take you to bed I will be fucking you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week."

A shiver ran through Sherlock, his eyes closing as his hand tightened around John's.

"I will deconstruct you Sherlock, I will finally turn off that amazing brain of yours and I make you want for nothing more than me."

"John..." he got out before John was kissing him again.

"Now rest." John ordered as he pulled away.

"Yes sir."


End file.
